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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22973635">Past Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/superbats/pseuds/superbats'>superbats</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>League of Legends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Pulsefire AU, theyre gay what can i say, this is a lil old but i thought id post it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:08:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,203</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22973635</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/superbats/pseuds/superbats</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>pulsefire au shen reminisces</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Shen/Zed (League of Legends)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Past Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The temporal flux shifted its mass, indicating he was nearing the destination he had set in mind when he’d opened it, walking through it at a relaxed pace. He’d mastered the art of time itself, but to truly be a master of it, one had to understand it, be one with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Anywhere. Any time. Endless possibilities. </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could’ve simply opened a rift between his current location and the next, but to traverse through the temporal flux itself was a leisure he could afford at the moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shen knew of only a small handful of individuals who had the capability to use the same technology he’d acquired many years ago, crossing paths with them plenty of times only for the briefest of moments before disappearing into the slipstream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d come to dislike all of them quickly, avoiding them at </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>costs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Too many questions, or accusations.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there was his exit, merely a few steps away. Extra precautions such as this, to merely take his time (it felt ironic to use the word in such a way) rather than rush to another location, made it harder for those annoyances to keep track of him. He would need to be brief here, if he wishes to be successful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Inevitably, they will appear, like always.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stepped out of the rift, only to find it was further above the floor than he’d been expecting, causing him to land in a bent stance to prevent himself from falling over, crouched down momentarily to take in his surroundings and process exactly where he was standing after balancing himself. Darkness greeted his vision, other than the illumination of his chest piece. He sucked in a deep breath, the filtered air of his mask filling his lungs, and he held it while his mind caught up with his body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time was a strange thing. Scary, even. You could be thinking of one thing one moment, and then another next. Doing so while traversing through a rift is </span>
  <em>
    <span>deadly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Letting your thoughts wander runs the risk of losing yourself, scattering like fragments of glass throughout endless times, becoming nothing more than a temporal displacement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Too close, again. Now, exhale.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shen released the air from his burning lungs in a sharp sigh, rising up to his full height as he steadied his breathing, his vision slowly having adjusted to the darkness that accommodated the location he was in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His chest piece helped give little vision that it could in the room, but it didn’t matter. He knew this place better than the man who lived here. Taking his steps forward, he approached the dark box that resided on the ornate tabletop. Long ago the whispers had ceased escaping the cracked lid, ever since it was opened by the man he’d once considered a friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>I should go back. Stop him. </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A tight feeling in his chest formed at the sight of the box, a pang to the heart. Memories of a distant past flashed before his eyes, of a time when he was younger, happier. Knowing the box was merely sucking him in, he turned away to stop himself from moving any closer to it. He wouldn’t fall for its allures. He was stronger than Zed ever will be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Was.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moving away from the box, he glanced down to the lone blood red pillow nestled before the tabletop, and he merely sighed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Red was always your color, wasn’t it?</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bending down, he opened a capsule on his belt, pulling out a thin roll of paper. It was frayed and yellow, browning even, clearly well-aged. Such a small thing didn’t handle traveling through time very well. Flattening it with his hands the best he could without damaging the paper, he rested it atop the ceremonial pillow, knowing Zed would come in the morning and see it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>He would always come here first after his tea. </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Standing upright once more, Shen moved away from the pillow to stroll around the room. Logically, his mission was completed, and he should return to</span>
  <em>
    <span> his </span>
  </em>
  <span>time, or at the very least to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>different </span>
  </em>
  <span>time. But he couldn’t bring himself to open a rift just yet. It didn’t feel like it was time yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made his way over to one of the larger side tables, where Zed’s weaponry laid. Reaching out, he brushed his gloved fingers over the sharp curve of the shuriken, noting the small indentations and knicks in the metal from excessive usage, his katar fairing no better. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shen felt a small smile quirk his lips at the thought that Zed worked so tirelessly for the same cause he worked endlessly towards now, capable of doing things Zed would never have been able to achieve. The smile faltered on his features though, his lips pursing as he sucked in a breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man he used to be, was dead. He’d acknowledged that plenty of times to himself. But reminiscing in the past like this, leaving something only for Zed to know of-- It all felt like he was betraying himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That thought left a vile feeling in his stomach, turning it into unsettled knots, knowing that he’d become something he’d swore to never become. He’d become another Zed. The thing he both hated, and loved, most.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>It’s for him.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It always was for Zed, which is what made everything so difficult. To fight with him and to love him were one in the same. They were two sides of the same sword. For Zed to die and for him to live, it only felt fitting for him to fight for both of their causes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Self pitying justification.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>After all, he wasn’t there when Zed died. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Realizing he was spiraling in his thoughts, he moved away from Zed’s weaponry to wander over to his armor, needing a change of thought. Brushing his hand over the light fabric that made up his shall, he brushed over the helmet in utter silence, not even his thoughts buzzing around his skull at the sight of it. To touch such a thing was sacred after so much time. He would cherish the moment while he could.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Shen drew his hand away from it though, leaving the rest of his armor untouched, knowing the more he touched and the more he interacted with objects, the higher risk of him altering time in some form. He couldn’t risk losing all of his progress due to a sudden whimsical desire to return to the past. Though, the thought of living here amongst his people, and with Zed, called to him. He ached for such a day when he could finally say he was finished, and live out his days in the past. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The light flickering in his chest piece, was an indicator that he’d been in this time for long enough. He needed to leave while he could, and return to an appropriate time for his suit to be capable of being charged. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But the urge to stay nagged at him, his heart wrenching in his chest at the mere thought of just leaving a simple piece of paper for Zed. He wanted to do more. But he could do more in the future. For him.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>It’s time to go home.</em>
  </b>
</p>
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